The Perils of Diplomacy
by sian22
Summary: Thranduil explains a few differences between Elves and Men and gets an unexpected request from his youngest son. A birthday fic about birthdays for Nyx Thranduillion. What more could a woman want for her birthday than a fabulous Elven King and Legolas as an elfling? Happy Birthday Cassie!


_With eternal thanks to Wynja for letting me play in her sandbox. I have borrowed Legolas's older brothers and Thranduil's chief advisor and healer from her 'Where it Doesn't Show universe'. Because I need training wheels to write Elf. Happy Birthday Cassie…and just for the record... there is a human (but no Faramir) in here. :)_

 _Set TA 1067. Legolas is 30, an elfling. For those who haven't read WiDS.. Iauron, Thranduil's eldest son, is Crown Prince and a rather self-centred, self-indulgent youth who never met a party he wasn't keen to crash. Tharmeduil, the second son, takes after their mother, Baralinith. Legolas is youngest. Arveldir is Thranduil's long-suffering and impeccably competent advisor. Nestoril is the Palace's chief healer and friend to Baralinith, who has had the first of a sequence of rather worrying visionary 'attacks' that leave her ill and incapacitated afterwards._

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* * *

Thranduil was bored.

It was spring and a sore trial indeed to be inside; away from the scents and sounds of a forest awake to life again. Away from trails that needed inspection from on elk-back. From any chore, however tedious really, that took one outside.

Throughout the morning's audience the Elven King had slid, ever so imperceptibly inch by inch, lower. His boot-clad legs (as long as one of Lindir's famous odes) were now crossed high, almost like a grasshopper's. His forearms in their robe of laurel green rested with faint disdain on the smooth polished wood of his ancient throne.

The great moonstone and mithril ring glinted in the cavern's bright torch light. Its fire, like Anor somewhere above the stone vaulting of the hall, was only but a little fainter than the steel in the monarch's gaze.

Chief Leod, blond, haughty, and revealing a satisfying touch of nervousness in a slight, but noticeable, stutter, was in full and fullsome flight. Massacring Silvan grammar left and right. The leader of the Free men of the North was, incredibly, reciting the _entire_ history of their people. As if he, Thranduil, King of the former Greenwood, had not been there when the children of Marach, Leod's own ancestors, had settled under the forest's eaves beside the narrowed Anduin.

The King stilled an outward sigh. Listening to interminable stories of battles from the distant past and the valour of their fierce and noble fighters, he gave silent thanks to _Nienna_ , Lady of Mercy, for her boon.

At least the man was not trying his even sketchier Sindarin.

 _The things one did to protect ones demesne_.

The threat from Dol Gulder grew. Blight and filth and black Yrch oozed from the once fair tower of Amon Lac. Swift horses were now vital to the warriors' success and the quickly growing settlement of men along the river's flats were eager to trade their mounts for healing spider silk.

It would be worth it. But only just.

After another half candlemark's slow and halting lore a dark eyebrow arched. The barest fingertip peeped out of the elegant long sleeves and motioned to his equally bored councillor.

 _Enough. For now._

Arveldir, who one discerned was bored solely from a slight rocking motion on his heels, cleared his throat. "Chief Leod, we expect you are fatigued from your long journey hence and wish to withdraw briefly before the day meal. Rooms have been prepared."

The advisor's fawn brown eyes politely, but most definitely firmly, slid towards the entrance door.

The king stood up. He unfolded his sere, tall frame like an eagle taking flight and clasped the long swirling robes of state close again. The contingent of the Edain rose with such haste a chair flipped over and against the quiet of the stone a muffled curse was heard.

"Excellent consideration Arveldir. I am certain the chief and his men are grateful for your suggestion. There will be some of the fine day left after our meal. I expect they will want to retire early then as well."

Below the dais several of the yellow-haired and broad shouldered guards eyed the rock walls a bit uncertainly. There were an outdoor people and clearly unused to life underground. Thranduil frowned. His own people had learned through dire necessity to appreciate the stone's brooding strength.

Leod nervously cleared his throat. "Your highness we have our own bedrolls…."

"You would prefer a talan?" Arveldir offered quickly, cutting the lord off as fast as he could. A talan…up in the trees. The thought of six frightened edain warriors huddled far from the platform's edge almost made the ElvenKing loose his mask of polite and imperious disinterest. Almost.

Leod paled. "No, no...our thanks. Rooms in the palace will be fine."

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~~~000~~~

"Ada!"

The door to the audience hall burst open with enough force to rattle candlesticks on a low console against the wall. The King started up. He snapped his leaf-crowned head up just quickly enough to maintain an air of bored insolence, uncertain just who had disturbed him unannounced.

A sunny whirlwind had blown in, followed at a brisk and almost careless trot by his flustered advisor and the graceful form of his chief healer. Arveldir looked horrified at the lack of protocol. Nestoril stopped so short at Arvedlir's broad back that a strand of her chestnut hair escaped from her neat blue headrail. She surreptitiously tucked it back.

His youngest, his little leaf, stood positively bouncing beside his chair. Oh the exuberant joy of an elfling. It warmed his heart. But nevertheless there were lessons of good behaviour to be learned.

"Legolas you do understand it is polite to knock."

"Yes Ada." The little long face drooped for just a breath before perking up. "Arveldir said I should not disturb you when you are sleeping but I have had the most wonderful idea."

Sleeping? At this time? Never. His nictitating membranes were not even closed. The morning had been trying that was all. "Hardly ion nin, Arveldir was quite mistaken. Resting my chin on my hand allows me to better concentrate." The brief glower held just the right amount of force. His long suffering advisor winced.

"My sincerest apologies your Highness."

"And mine…" Nestoril spoke up.

"Naneth is resting Ada, so I came to you." Legolas' face shone with barely suppressed excitement.

Grey and brown eyes met briefly above the bright blond head. The barest flicker of pained understanding passed between the King and the elleth. Baralinith, his fea-mate, was still unwell. After so much time spent recently in the Healing Halls he counted his chief healer as a friend.

"Your Highness... I was just going to bring Prince Legolas back to the tutor but he had news he wished to share."

Thranduil smiled. He did not wish Nestoril to feel discomfited. They had perforce to do their best in uncertain circumstances.

Before he could speak again a light high voice broke in. "Tharmeduil is with his tutor and Iauron told me I was a spiderling." Tears glistened in elfling's clear grey eyes and threatened to well up.

A sigh escaped. He rose and paced slowly down the dias steps, reached to reclaim his youngest from the healer's grasp. Surely he could find some time for his son. "Nestoril, my thanks. Your care and consideration for this scamp does the Hall most proud. Please leave him with me. And do not let us keep you from your duties." _And my ailing love._

The elleth curtseyed briefly and bowed sedately out, left the two ellon to handle the latest domestic crisis. Of late the King and father had grown ever more outraged by his eldest son's behaviour. Perhaps the Edain had the right of it. Elflings born less far apart might mitigate some of the ridiculous rivalry.

"Legolas you are not a spiderling." He gazed fondly down on the little anxious face.

"Indeed not Sire." Arveldir offered up. "The Prince has been particularly helpful this morning. He played host to Chief Leod's young son."

He did? Iauron had been asked to watch the Chieftan's son. Why had Legolas, so little, barely 30, been tasked with that?

Dark brows narrowed suddenly in the King's smooth, proud face. "We understood our eldest to have accepted that occupation."

There was a pause. Polished advisors did not shuffle their feet awkwardly but something about faintest droop in the Silvan's shoulders warned the King not all was well. The perfect robes were pulled just out of line, "Prince Iauron found himself….. otherwise engaged."

 _Valar_! Could the ellon not keep his laces tied for longer than a candlemark? The Crown Prince had only received his majority a decade past but appeared intent on trying out every possible opportunity for indulgence that came his way. Thranduil reflected that their tutors had failed spectacularly. The Crown Prince did not know the meaning of the word no.

An idea presented itself quite quickly. "Arveldir...the Prince was to leave late this afternoon for Dale, or do I misremember?"

Warm brown eyes glinted most mischievously. "His majesty is famous for his grasp of all that happens. Indeed Sire, Iauron was to spend the weekend. It coincided with a visit by our traders, I had assumed a variety of _inspections_ to be undertaken."

Including brothels he had no doubt. Thranduil just barely forestalled an unkingly snort. "We have changed our mind. In light of the pressing need of discussion with Leod's delegation see to it that the King's Office informs Prince Iauron his leave is cancelled."

"With pleasure Sire. And in light of this change, might the King's Office also suggest that Prince Iauron be seated next to Leod at the high table this evening? The Prince is such an accomplished listener. "

Could Arveldir be smirking? Impossible. His mild mannered advisor would do nothing so uncouth.

A long elegant finger gestured carelessly, ring glinting in the firelight. "You might. An excellent suggestion. I leave it to your capable administration. And now I have other things to discuss with my youngest son."

The Silvan inclined his dark head gracefully and bowed quickly out.

Thranduil turned to his youngest and noticed a wide-eyed, perhaps slightly too knowing look within his eyes. He must remember that little ones had big ears; remember to shield Legolas a little more from the worst of his brother's predilections.

Sighing, he turned and mounted the steps up to his throne, Settling back, he raised his silk-clad arms wide and was rewarded by an armful of warm, snuggling elfling.

It felt just right. He had much less time these days then he would like with this young son who was, of all his children, most like to him. Quicksilver, keen, passionate but even as a little one already a little guarded with his thoughts. Legolas needed his father (and not the king) perhaps the most of all his sons with his Baralinith right now too ill to help.

"Thank you penneth for your efforts entertaining Chief Leod's young son. That was very princely behaviour. Now tell of your morn. This was your first time meeting a child of men was it not? " He wondered how old was the child? Arveldir had briefed him. Ten, was that right? Of an age with Legolas. "What was his name?"

"Leuwin, Ada. I showed him the practice ground and the paddocks. He was most interested in our Elk. His eyes nearly goggled out when I said we rode them."

" _They_ allow us to ride _them_ Legolas, 'tis not the other way around."

It was unclear the message was received. Words were tumbling out of Legolas like water in a rushing brook. "And we borrowed some blackberries from the kitchen and fed Nelleron."

"You borrowed berries? I am sure Nelleron appreciated the gesture if the cook did not."

"He did Ada...he loved them and even let Leuwin pat his nose." Thranduil paused in the act of brushing fair silken strands out of his son's eyes. His royal elk let a human child approach? There must be something to these men and their way with beasts.

"And did you talk in the common tongue?" He was fairly certain his youngest had learned it from a tutor and not in the streets of Dale.

"Yes and he tried a little Silvan too, though it was hard to understand." The elfling's excitement positively shone. "He showed me his sword and his horse. He already has his own and he gets to train and wear leather armour!"

Thranduil had to clench his elegant fingers in the folds of his robe. Damn Iauron and his ways. He knew where this conversation was now going..Legolas had been angling for months to try a practice sword with Tharmeduil. He was much too young.

"Now ion nin you know our ways are different. Men must start soon because their lives are so very short." Valar grant that this child, his last little leaf, did grow up all too soon.

He received a crestfallen look. In the time honoured way of all parents in a tight and awkward corner he abruptly changed the topic. "Did Leuwin tell you else of his people?"

"Yes, Ada. They are very different and quite strange. Did you know they celebrate birth days not begetting days? His birth day was this week past. He got a real short sword made of steel. I think the idea is wonderful. "

 _Eru_ they were back to the sword.

"Penneth I am sorry but their ways cannot be ours. Your bow will have to suffice for now. Beldor tells me you are doing wonderfully well with that." The price of spider silk just went up in his head. Just recompense for the badgering about swords that all were likely to endure in the coming days. His youngest could be remarkably persistent when he chose.

"But Ada that is not what I meant." Legolas took his much larger hand in his little one and squeezed hard.

No? Thranduil searched the anxious little face. He could not imagine where his son's quick mind had gone. "It is not?"

"We celebrate begetting days but mine is so very long away. Ness said my birthday is in _yávië._ That is so much nearer. Can we please celebrate both?"

The King and father, for once, was so surprised he did not know what to say.  
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* * *

The Free Men of the North were a group of the Middle Men who settled in the upper reaches of the Anduin and became the forerunners of Eorl and the Éothéod who helped Cirion defeat the Wainriders at the Field of Celebrant. In recompense they were granted the lands of Rohan.

Grateful thanks to Wynja for beta-ing and Raider-K for encouragement.


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